


The Wolves Came

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gun Violence, Horror, Infidelity, Jon Snow is Not a Targaryen, Jonerys Endgame, Lovers To Enemies, Minor Character Death, Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, the Starks are the bad guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: The Starks represent everything Dany has wanted ever since she was an orphan growing up in King's Landing without a family or a home to call her own. Sure, they can be a little strange, even downright hostile, especially her fiancé's brother, Jon, who really seems to dislike her for some reason. And if she's having cold feet on her wedding day, it's only natural, right?Dany's about to find out there's a lot more to the Starks than she realizes. Making it through her wedding isn't all she has to worry about—surviving the wedding night might be even harder.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 114
Kudos: 671





	The Wolves Came

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyTarg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTarg/gifts).



> Happy Birthday LadyTarg! I just wanted to make sure you had a little something on your birthday ❤ If you find time to read this, I hope you like it!
> 
> Also, Happy Halloween! This fic is inspired by the horror movie "Ready or Not." If you're familiar with the movie, Dany is Grace, Robb is her fiance/husband Alex, and Jon is the brother, Daniel. That said, I totally ship the main character with the brother, and I wrote this fic as a Jonerys fic. The ending is not the same as the movie, so don't panic.
> 
> The Starks are not the good guys here. You will not like them. You might not like Jon to start with either, but you'll come around to him eventually.
> 
> With those warnings out of the way, if you have complaints about the Robb/Dany pairing, just save it. Better close out now. I'm not going to put this in the Robb/Dany tag because it's really not a fic that supports that ship, and they are not together in the end. I just really liked this movie and thought it would make for a good Jonerys AU. I had fun writing it, so I hope you have fun reading it!
> 
> Thank you to aliciutza for beta'ing and making the moodboard!

* * *

Dany was new to Winterfell, having left behind the harsh streets of King’s Landing in the hopes of finding what she’d been missing since she was a child: a home.

After her parents had died, she’d been shuttled between foster homes as an orphan; unfortunately, no one ever seemed to want her for long. She’d gone through her adolescent and teen years without finding a family to call her own, so once she’d turned eighteen, she’d finally gotten her own place: a run-down, one-bedroom apartment in Flea Bottom she could barely afford on her measly wages as a waitress.

But King’s Landing was expensive, the people mercenary and cruel. After a couple years of being miserable in that cramped, shithole of a city, Dany had finally made the decision to move. The North was cheaper and far more spacious; she’d hoped they would be more hospitable, too.

She found a place to rent in one of the cheaper boroughs just outside of Winterfell, so she could easily commute to her job at an upscale bar in the city. She made a decent amount in tips, and her coworkers were friendly enough. Until they learned she was from the south—then they got this weird, judgmental look in their eyes, like they thought she was tainted or something.

So much for hospitable, she supposed.

She did end up making one friend, however, another waitress named Gilly. She was sweet if a bit odd. Like Dany, she was also considered an outsider, except she came from even farther up north; she was a Free Folk, one of the indigenous peoples of Westeros.

“Northerners don’t really like my kind either,” Gilly told her once during a shared break out behind the bar.

Gilly had met her boyfriend, Sam, at university, and once they’d graduated, she’d moved with him to Winterfell. He was a portly man with a nervous face, but Dany thought he seemed nice enough whenever he would stop by the bar. He was Gilly’s ride to and from work, so he often had a drink while he waited for his girlfriend’s shift to be over.

“We’re going to a party at a friend’s house, if you want to come,” he said to Dany one night as she and Gilly were closing up.

“Won’t your friend mind?” Dany asked skeptically. From her experience, Northerners didn’t care for interlopers.

“No, they like for us to bring around new people,” Sam assured her. He seemed skittish—but then again, he always did. After considering it, Dany reluctantly agreed.

When they pulled up to the friend’s house half an hour later, Dany was dumbstruck. _House_ was an understatement. In actuality, what greeted them was a large manor sat on a large estate, tucked away in the woods some distance from the main hub of the city. The manor was surrounded by a tall stone enclosure; they had to wait at the wrought-iron gate to be buzzed in.

“How rich are these people?” Dany asked, still gaping up at the huge, gothic-looking house as they drove down the driveway.

Sam and Gilly looked at each other. “Very rich,” Sam admitted. “Their ancestors are the ones who founded Winterfell, actually.”

Sam followed the driveway past the house, ending up at a guesthouse nearby. Even that was bigger than most houses Dany had ever seen. The music coming from inside was loud; she could feel the bass in her chest as they got out of the car. There were a lot of people, so many in fact that there was spillover in the front yard. They were all laughing and drinking; it seemed like everyone already knew each other. Feeling horribly out of place, she stuck close by her friends as she followed them through the house.

Sam pushed his way through the crowd, making space for Gilly and Dany. “Jon!” he shouted over the music and chatter, lifting his hand in the air to wave at someone.

Dany was too short to see over his shoulder, but she heard the answering voice loud and clear. “Sam! Where the fuck you been, mate?”

The voice was deep and gruff, thickened by the rich Northern burr. When Dany had first moved to Winterfell, she’d loathed that accent, finding it harsh and abrasive and hard to understand. But now...now it seemed to wrap around her like velvet, sliding over her bare skin. She gave an involuntary shudder.

Sam stopped to hug someone, and when he pulled away, she got her first look at this Jon. Her stomach tightened, and a hot flush of awareness washed over her.

He was attractive. A bit taller than her but not so much so she had to crane her neck to look up at him. His eyes were dark, and his black hair was an endearing mess of unruly curls. His lips were lush and pouty, framed by a neatly trimmed beard. She had the sudden urge to touch them and see if they were as soft as they looked.

“I had to pick up Gilly from work,” Sam explained as Jon and Gilly hugged next. Then Sam gestured to Dany, who lingered behind them, still staring at Jon. “Her friend, Daenerys, came with us. Hope that’s cool. Dany, this is Jon Snow.”

Jon finally seemed to notice her then. Their eyes locked, and her heart began to beat faster. Dany smiled; he didn’t return it. “Hi,” she said shyly, reaching her hand out to introduce herself. He didn’t take it, and her hand hovered awkwardly in the air before dropping to her side.

He continued to stare at her. “Where are you from?” he asked suddenly. Just like that, the velvetiness of his voice was gone, replaced by cold, hard steel.

Astonished, she could only gawk at him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re not from around here,” he accused.

Heat filled her face. She flared her nostrils in defiance. “So?”

“ _So_ , I’m asking you: Where are you from?” he repeated, his tone sharper, biting. A chill had settled between them.

“I’m from King’s Landing,” she said defensively.

Glaring, Jon shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

With that, he turned and stalked away from them. Dany watched him go, disappearing into the gathered crowd. Inexplicably, tears sprang to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away, mad at herself for feeling so wounded by his reaction.

Sam and Gilly shared a bewildered look before turning to her. “Sorry about that,” Sam apologized. “Sometimes Jon can be…”

“An arsehole?” Dany supplied sharply. She was trembling, she realized, and not the pleasant shudder from just a moment ago. This one was born of anger and humiliation.

“Yes,” Sam relented. “But don’t take it personally. It’s just how he is.”

Gilly looped her arm through Dany’s. “He’s just a little rough around the edges, Jon is. Slow to warm up to people. He was a bit standoffish with me, too. He’ll come around eventually,” she assured her. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

* * *

But Jon didn’t come around. For some reason, he seemed especially bothered by Dany’s presence in his house. He ignored her when he could, and when he couldn’t, he lashed out with mean-spirited comments and remarks targeted at only her.

Rattled by his treatment, Dany eventually decided to leave. She didn’t bother alerting Gilly or Sam; instead she went outside to call for an Uber to take her home. She’d wait until she was in the Uber to let her friend know, just in case Gilly tried to talk her into staying. She didn’t want to be here a second longer than necessary.

Dany was still waiting for a driver to respond to her request when a sports car pulled up in front of the guesthouse, nearly blinding her with its headlights. A moment later, they shut off when the driver killed the engine. The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped a youung guy, a pack of beer in his hand. He stopped when he saw her.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Dany bristled. “Nobody,” she replied flatly. “Leaving.”

Head cocked to the side, he came closer. “Leaving? Why?”

Now she could see him more clearly. He was cute, with light-colored eyes and auburn curls cropped close to his head. His beard was even redder than his hair. For some unexplained reason, he made her think of Jon. The thought soured her mood even more.

“Because the host is a stuck-up prick,” she answered bluntly.

He laughed suddenly, surprising her. “Jon?” he guessed. Her mouth tightened in answer, and he grinned. “Aye, he’s a prick, alright,” he agreed amicably. “But he’s all bark and no bite. I wouldn’t let him run you off. This house is big enough for the both of you.”

Dany shook her head. “I’m not really interested in sticking around places I’m not wanted.”

“Who said you’re not wanted?” he asked with surprising gentleness.

“Jon—”

“Jon’s not the only host,” he interrupted. Then he held out his hand to her. “I’m Robb Stark. This is my party, too. And I’d very much like you to stay.”

“Oh.” Confused, she stared at his hand before eventually taking it. “Sorry—I thought Jon—”

“He’s my brother. Well. Half-brother, technically.” Robb smiled and let go of her hand. Ripping open the side of the beer pack, he pulled out one of the cans and held it out to her. “Come on. Let’s go back inside and try again. You don’t have to talk to Jon the rest of the night if you don’t want to.”

She hesitated, staring at him doubtfully. Then, with a sigh, she canceled her request for an Uber and took the beer. He grinned again. “Atta girl.” She followed him back into the house.

She didn’t talk to Jon again that night, but she was constantly aware of him. The heat of his glower as he watched her with Robb. Dany did her best to ignore him, but he seemed to always be in her periphery. Despite his hostility and her initial wariness, however, she found herself quickly warming to Robb. He was kind and welcoming, and he made her laugh. He was different from his brother in every way.

So, at the end of the night, when he asked for her number, she gave it to him. And when he texted her the next day to ask her on a date, she agreed. And at the end of that date, when he asked to see her again, she kissed him.

That was how she ended up dating Robb Stark. Before long, she was meeting his family.

* * *

“Should I have brought a gift?” Dany asked nervously, answering herself before Robb could, “I should have brought something. Wine, maybe? Or flowers? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to bring when you meet your boyfriend’s family?”

Robb laughed, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh. “Relax. They don’t expect anything.”

“I just want them to like me,” she said, smoothing down her dress. She’d spent so long getting ready, unable to make up her mind about what to wear, that she’d already made them late. She didn’t have a car of her own, so Robb had to pick her up from her apartment and drive her back to the Stark manor for a family dinner where she would meet his parents and the rest of his siblings for the first time.

“You’re worrying over nothing,” Robb told her, glancing at her with an easy smile. “They’re going to love you no matter what. Trust me.”

Dany took a deep breath and managed a weak smile in return. His reassurances did nothing to calm the tempest of nerves in her stomach. She was worried about making a good impression on his parents, that was true—but she was also nervous about seeing Jon again. It would be the first time since their disastrous introduction. The party had only been a couple weeks ago. Truthfully, she thought it seemed a bit soon to be meeting Robb’s parents, but he seemed eager for her to. Which meant he must be pretty serious about her.

Dany wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Excited. Scared. Both. She’d never met a guy’s family before; all her past relationships had been fleeting and casual. She didn’t know what a normal courtship was like. It was nice, she supposed, to be courted and wooed.

In the daylight, the Stark manor was even more impressive and intimidating than it’d been at night. There were a lot of wolf statues and iconography all around the grounds she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d been there. Even the iron knocker on the front door was sculpted in the shape of a wolf’s head.

“Wow. Your family really loves wolves,” she joked to Robb just as he went to open the door. He shot her a censuring look.

“They’re direwolves,” he corrected, his voice surprisingly devoid of any humor. She blinked, caught off guard by his tone, but then he was guiding her inside, his face lighting up with a grin. He called out, “Mum, Dad, we’re here!”

Awed, Dany took in her surroundings. Sam hadn’t lied when he said the Starks were very rich. Robb always demurred whenever Dany hinted at it, but he didn’t need to give her a dollar amount. Everything about them underscored their wealth, from this house to Robb’s car to the clothes he wore—right down to the watch on his wrist.

A stranger appeared then, startling Dany. “Your family is in the drawing room, my lord,” he said.

Unprompted, Robb shrugged off his coat and handed it over. “Thank you, Jory.”

Jory looked at Dany expectantly. “Oh.” With an embarrassed smile, she took off her own jacket and gave it to him. With a bow, Jory left.

Bemused, Dany glanced at her boyfriend. “ _My lord_? Are you a bloody lord?”

Robb shrugged it off. “No. The staff just likes to stand on ceremony.”

Staff. The Starks had a fucking _staff._ Now, she really wished she’d brought some wine.

Taking her hand in his, Robb led her through the grand foyer. It was a surprisingly long walk. Rounding a corner, Dany did her best to school her expression as they entered the drawing room. This room was even bigger than the foyer. Frankly, she had no idea what a drawing room even _was_. A woman with Robb’s coloring lounged on a settee, and next to her sat a man with dark brown hair and a stern face, his brow furrowed as he flipped through some documents. At the bay window sat a redheaded girl and boy, both absorbed in their phones.

At their entrance, his family all looked to the doorway. Immediately, Dany felt self-conscious. “The prodigal son has returned, “ Robb announced with a grin and an unnecessary bow.

With a sound of disgust, the girl rolled her eyes. “ _Ugh_. Could you be any more full of yourself?”

The woman and the man got up from the settee to greet them. “And this must be the one you’ve told us so much about,” the woman said, her eyes fixed on Dany with keen interest. Dany fought the impulse to move closer to Robb’s side.

“This is Daenerys,” he said by way of introduction. “Daenerys, this is my mum and dad.”

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark, Mr. Stark,” Dany said politely. She went to shake their hands, but Robb’s mother engulfed her in a hug instead.

“Please. Call me Catelyn.” When she pulled back, she looked her over. “Look at you. You’re every bit as beautiful as he said.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Dany said with an awkward laugh. His mother touched her hair, startling her.

“Silver hair. _Fascinating_ ,” she murmured. “Robb said you’re from King’s Landing?”

Bewildered, Dany glanced at him, but Robb looked unconcerned by his mother’s bizarre behavior. He just rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Um. Yes,” Dany replied.

“But originally?” Catelyn pressed.

“Excuse me?”

His father spoke then. “Silver hair, violet eyes. You have the classic Valyrian look.” He shook her hand with a smile. “Call me Ned.”

“Oh, okay,” Dany said, forcing a smile. “I guess? I mean, I don’t know much about my parents or where they’re from. They died when I was young.”

“That’s so terrible,” Catelyn said sympathetically, still stroking a lock of her hair between her fingers.

“OK, Mum, you’re coming on a bit strong,” Robb intervened finally, and Catelyn stepped back.

“Forgive me. She’s just so different from the last girlfriend you brought home.”

Ned grimaced. “Darling, I doubt Daenerys wants to hear about Robb’s ex.”

“Aye,” Robb agreed. Daenerys opened her mouth to object—actually, she didn’t know anything about his other girlfriends, and now she was curious—but Catelyn and Ned turned away.

“These are our other children, Sansa and Bran,” Ned said, gesturing to the two at the window. The two of them lifted their heads in disinterest then immediately went back to their phones. “We’re missing one. Where is Arya?”

Catelyn sighed. “Where else? The wolf pen.”

“Wolf pen?” Dany asked Robb under her breath. He shook his head in answer, flashing a brief smirk.

“Sansa, can you go get your sister?” Ned asked, pulling up his blazer sleeve to look at his watch. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

Sansa pulled a face. “Why do _I_ have to do it? Make Bran go. He actually _likes_ the wolf pen,” she griped. Bran snorted.

“I don’t care who does it, just as long as one of you goes,” Ned said sharply. With another eye roll, Sansa dragged herself off the window seat and stomped out of the room, her attention still glued to her phone.

“Jon should be along soon as well,” Ned said. Catelyn made a sniffing sound but said nothing. At his name, Dany’s mouth suddenly went dry, and she swallowed painfully, racking her brain for something to say.

“You have such a big family,” she remarked to Robb and his parents. “Growing up, I always wondered what it would have been like to have a lot of siblings. I imagine it must be nice.”

A derisive scoff came from behind her, and everyone’s head swiveled in that direction where Jon leaned in the doorway. Heat prickled along her skin, blooming in her belly, her chest, her face. The mockery in his expression rankled.

“How adorably naïve.” He looked at Robb, lifting his eyebrows. “Like a lamb right to the slaughter with this one, huh?”

“Jon,” Ned said in warning.

She felt like she’d been slapped, but Robb just laughed, putting his arm around her waist. “Ignore him, Daenerys. He’s just jealous. I’m sure it’s not easy being the black sheep of the family.”

Jon’s jaw tightened, and Ned sighed. “You two are being unforgivably rude to our guest right now. Can we try to have a nice family dinner before scaring her off?” Ned gave her a kind look. “Forgive my sons. All the money and privilege in the world, and sometimes they’re still no better than a couple of schoolboys having a pissing match.”

“I wonder if that has anything to do with the way you always pit us against each other,” Jon retorted dryly, pushing off the door jamb.

“Truthfully, it’s never been much of a competition,” Robb said with a smirk, and the two of them stared each other down. Dany grew increasingly uncomfortable.

“Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?” she offered, pulling away from Robb’s side as she turned to Catelyn. “Set the table, maybe?”

They all looked at her like she was mad. Robb chuckled, and Catelyn gave her a patronizing smile. “No, dear. We pay people to do that for us.”

Dany blushed. “Oh.”

Jon shook his head. “You’re in over your head,” he muttered, but Jory appeared in the doorway before she could respond.

“Dinner is served.”

His hand on her back, she let Robb guide her to the dining room, pretending to be unaffected by Jon’s presence behind her as he and the others followed. Jory opened the doors for them, bowing before stepping aside. Catelyn wasn’t kidding: a few footmen waited around the perimeter of the room, the long table at the center already set.

The footmen stepped forward to pull the chairs out, and Dany sat down at Robb’s side. Ned and Catelyn sat at either end of the table. When Jon sat down across from her, she scowled but averted her eyes when he met her gaze head-on, busying herself with unfolding the napkin in her lap. Bran managed to sit down without tearing his attention away from his phone.

“Bran. No phones at the table,” Catelyn scolded. With an annoyed sigh, he shoved his phone into his pocket.

Sansa entered the dining room then, and at her heel skulked a shorter girl, her messy brown hair cut to her shoulders. This had to be Arya. She looked very much like her father. Jon did, too; the others clearly took after Catelyn.

“About time, girls,” Ned reprimanded them sternly.

With a huff, Sansa threw herself into the empty chair to Robb’s right. “I wasn’t late. _You_ told me to get Arya.”

“Still. It’s rude to keep us waiting.”

Sansa whined. “So blame Arya! She’s always in that stupid wolf pen.”

Arya ignored her sister, sitting down next to Jon. When the girl fixed her gaze on her, Dany offered a polite smile. “I’m Dany,” she introduced herself.

“You’re Valyrian,” she commented, her eyes narrowing.

What the hell was this family’s obsession with her looks? “Um, yes, I guess so,” she said with a forced laugh. Apparently, these people had never seen anything but brown or red hair before. The North did seem rather homogenous, now that she thought about it.

“Silver hair is very rare,” Arya said shrewdly.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Anyone can get that color from a box.”

Dany shot him a glare. “It’s my natural hair color, thank you.”

“Is it?” he asked nonchalantly. “Can Robb confirm that for us?”

Blood rushed to her face as Robb stiffened in his chair. Catelyn inhaled sharply. “ _Jon_!” She glared at him then her husband. “Ned, control your son,” she hissed at him.

Ned turned a disapproving frown on Jon. “You will apologize.”

Jon pulled a face, glancing wide-eyed between Dany and Robb. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was that presumptuous? Have you two not fucked yet?” he asked with feigned innocence. Catelyn flung herself back in her chair, outraged, and Bran and Arya snickered.

“This is so embarrassing,” Sansa muttered, hiding her face behind her hand.

Ned slammed his hand down on the table, making the dinnerware rattle. Dany jumped. “Enough!” he barked. “Jon, you will leave this table. Right now. I think we’ve all heard enough from you tonight.”

With a shrug, Jon pushed back from the table and stood. “Wasn’t really hungry, anyway,” he muttered as he stalked out of the dining room.

Robb leaned toward Dany, putting his hand on her thigh. “Told you—he’s just jealous,” he murmured to her. Her cheeks still burned, and she couldn’t make eye contact with anyone else at the table.

Once Jon was gone, Ned took a deep breath to temper his anger. Then he fixed Dany with a rueful look. “Daenerys, I apologize. This night has been abominable.”

“It’s fine,” she said tightly.

“No, it’s not,” Catelyn interjected. She spoke soothingly, but red still blotted her cheeks. “Whatever you think of Jon, I hope you won’t think poorly of the rest of us. He’s always been a willful child.” She gave Ned a gimlet-eyed glare before turning back to Dany. “He and Robb couldn’t be any more different, I promise you that.”

She gave Catelyn a small smile, resting her hand on top of Robb’s when he gave her leg a comforting squeeze. “Believe me, I already know that.”

Ned cleared his throat. “Good. Now, let’s try this again, shall we?” At his nod, one of the footmen walked to the doorway and signaled to the kitchen staff. On cue, they filed into the dining room to place the first course before each seat: a creamy, green soup.

Picking up her spoon, Dany tried her best to shake off her disquiet and enjoy the meal.

* * *

The night air was cool on her face, a welcoming balm for the flush that had inflamed it all throughout dinner and then afterward. Dany stepped out onto the terrace, quietly shutting the door behind her. Finally alone, she let out a harsh breath, her shoulders sagging.

She liked Robb’s family. She _did_. His parents, at least. His siblings were OK, if a bit...weird. But Ned and Catelyn were nice, and they were doing their best to make her feel at ease, especially in the wake of Jon’s rude behavior.

After his dismissal, he hadn’t returned. Dany was glad for that. He was absolutely insufferable. At least, without him around, she’d been able to relax somewhat.

Inhaling the crisp air, Dany paused when she got a whiff of something else. Smoke. Specifically, cigarette smoke. Suddenly, every hair on her body seemed to stand on end, and she turned toward the darkened corner of the terrace, shadowed by the overhang. There, a red speck glowed in the dark.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

The speck glowed brighter for a second, followed by an audible exhale. The cigarette smoke smell intensified, wrapping around her as a shadow detached itself from the rest to drift toward her. She planted her feet where she stood, refusing to retreat. A second later, Jon emerged from the shadows, standing in the beam of light shining through the glass door.

“Finally had enough of the loving, happy family act in there?” he asked drolly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. Why did he make her heart beat so fast? “Actually, I find your family quite charming.”

With a chuff, he took a drag of his cigarette. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he muttered, tendrils of smoke curling from his lips as he spoke. She didn’t know what he meant by that, but she bristled all the same.

“You know, some people aren’t as lucky as you are. To have a home, a family. To grow up in a place like this,” she said, gesturing aggressively toward the house.

“ _Lucky_ isn’t the word I would use for it,” he retorted, scowling. “You shouldn’t comment on things you know nothing about.”

“I don’t need a primer on your family to know _you’ve_ been an arsehole to me since the moment I met you,” she snapped. He didn’t say anything, his dark eyes boring into hers. Faltering in the silence, she tightened her arms around her. “Why don’t you like me?” she asked suddenly.

He gave a dry chuckle. “ _Like you_? This isn’t grade school, Dany. We’re not on the bloody playground.”

Her nickname in his mouth gave her an unexpected jolt. Robb only ever referred to her as Daenerys. His family, too. She didn’t mind, really, though she preferred Dany. For a moment, she almost forgot what they were talking about, then she gave herself a shake. “I want to know. What did I do to make you hate me?”

His smile was a humorless slash across his mouth. “Don’t take it personally.”

“It’s hard not to.”

He shrugged. “Robb already told you. This is just how I am.”

She shook her head. “Not with everyone. I saw you at the party. With Sam and Gilly.”

He laughed, low and throaty. “Surprisingly, even arseholes have friends.”

“So why not—” She stopped herself, the rest of the question catching in her throat: _Why not me?_ She hated how pathetic she sounded.

Jon stared at her, his gaze unnerving. After a beat, he took another drag of his cigarette. “You really want to know?” he asked. At some point, he’d moved closer to her, his face only inches from hers. She didn’t dare breathe, her eyes locked on his. She nodded.

“Because you don’t belong here, Dany,” he answered softly. She blinked, and blinked again, shame and anger rising in her throat like bile.

“Why—because I’m not from the North? Because I’m an outsider?” she demanded. “Is that why you don’t think I’m good enough for your family? For _Robb_? Is that why you seem determined to run me off?”

Something shifted behind his eyes, followed by the slightest furrowing of his brow, but then it was gone as quickly as it came. He didn’t smile when he said, “Maybe it’s because I want you for myself.”

Her mouth parted in disbelief, eyes searching his face. He sounded so serious, so solemn, so earnest—and almost immediately, she hated herself. For even entertaining the thought that he could possibly mean it. Her nostrils flared. “Bullshit,” she spat, resenting the quaver in her voice.

At that, he broke. A brusque smile flickered across his face, and he sighed. “Fine. If you need me to spell it out for you: No, you don’t deserve Robb.” Before she could say anything, he continued, “You don’t want _him_. You want this—” He gestured to the house. “You want everything that comes with him. The house, the family. You want what it means. Or what you _think_ it means. But all this, our family—I promise you, it’s not what you think.”

She stared at him, confused. “What does that even mean?”

He leaned closer, bringing his face next to hers. Despite herself, as his rich voice scraped against her ear, she shuddered. “It means you should run, Dany. Far, far away from here.”

With that, he pulled back abruptly. Holding her gaze, he flicked his cigarette butt over the side of the terrace, then he stalked back into the house, leaving her alone with his words ringing in her ears.

* * *

Dany didn’t feel comfortable talking to Robb about Jon. The two clearly didn’t get along. Jon seemed to have a contentious relationship with everyone in his family, especially Catelyn. It was obvious he wasn’t her child—at that first dinner, she’d referred to him as _Ned’s_ son, which explained a few things. But it left her with a lot more questions.

She decided Gilly might be the best person to ask about it. She waited until things were slow at work, when they were in between lunch and the after-work rush. Only a few regulars were posted up around the bar, watching some sports programming on the TVs. Dany and Gilly were leaning against the bar, an eye on the entrance in case any new customers walked in.

“Robb and Jon are half-brothers, right?” Dany asked hesitantly. They’d been talking about Sam, and she’d waited until Jon was inevitably mentioned before she pounced. Gilly nodded, idly tying a knot in the stem of a cherry she’d eaten. “But...Robb is older, isn’t he?”

Gilly’s fingers stilled briefly. “Aye. By a few weeks.”

Dany chewed on her lip. “So, that means their father cheated on Robb’s mother, doesn’t it?”

Gilly shrugged. “I s’pose so. They don’t really talk about it.”

“Who is Jon’s mother?” Dany asked curiously.

“Dunno her name. Jon’s pretty mum about it all. I’m not sure _he_ even knows.”

“Really? Then why is his last name Snow?”

“That’s just what they call all bastards in the North.” Suddenly, Gilly’s face took on a keen look, her eyes shifting side to side as she moved closer to Dany. Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. “Rumor ‘round town is the Starks killed her. She showed up with a baby claiming it was Ned’s, so he took the child and got rid of her so no one would ever know what happened.”

Stunned, Dany stared at her. Then she let out a disbelieving laugh. “Come on. That’s insane. You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

Gilly shrugged. “I told you, it was just a rumor. Sam says it’s not true, anyway. More than likely, they just paid her off. Gave her a lot of money so she would disappear and never talk about it again.” She scrunched her nose. “Can’t have someone sullying the Stark name around these parts, you know?”

“Right,” Dany said uncertainly, unsettled by their conversation. She started to say something more when Gilly straightened, her attention zeroing in on the new patron who’d just walked into the bar.

“I’ve got this one,” she said, already on her way to greet the man. Dany watched, lost in her thoughts.

The rumor was absurd, of course. But Dany didn’t think the alternative made the Starks sound much better.

* * *

It was Robb’s name day, and his parents were holding a small party at their home to celebrate—mostly for family, with a few close friends invited. Dany and Robb had been dating for a few months now, and she spent a lot of time with the Starks. She’d grown accustomed to their eccentricities—namely Arya’s bluntness, Sansa’s brattiness and Bran’s aloofness. Jon was still Jon, nasty and crude, but she was determined to not let him bother her anymore.

She loved Ned and Catelyn. And Robb, of course. But his parents’ immediate embrace of her into their fold more than made up for the others.

For Robb’s name day, they were gathered in the parlour room, the family and a few guests who’d lingered after the extravagant dinner party. Dany was talking to Catelyn by the fireplace when Robb approached her, interrupting their conversation. He held his hand out to her and, when she took it, pulled her off the chaise lounge chair she was seated on.

She gave a bewildered laugh. “What’s this about?” He held up a hand to hush the ambient chatter, and immediately everyone in the room fell quiet, their attention focused on the couple. Under their scrutiny, Dany grew shy. “Robb?” she asked under her breath, her confusion growing.

He smiled at her. “I have something I want to say to you. And I wanted everyone here—everyone who means the most in this world to me—to be here when I said it.”

Her heart started pounding in her chest. “OK,” she said on a nervous giggle. It sounded shrill to her ears.

He took both her hands in his. “Daenerys, the moment I met you, standing outside our guesthouse and looking pissed off at the world, I knew you were the one for me.” Everyone else chuckled. Her lips twitched obediently, but she continued to stare at him wide-eyed. “You were, quite simply, the most stunning woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Admittedly, your beauty was what first drew my eye to you. But then I got to know you, and I realized you were everything I’ve been waiting for. I know this might seem sudden to you, but I just can’t wait another minute to spend the rest of my life with you. Daenerys Targaryen—”

He dropped to one knee, and everyone gasped when he pulled out a small jewelry box from inside his blazer. Dany sucked in a breath. Releasing her hand, Robb cracked the box open to reveal a large, sparkling engagement ring. Those nearby who could see the ring let out cries of exclamation. “Will you marry me?” he asked her.

She felt faint. “I—Robb—” she croaked out, but the words stuck in her throat. Her eyes blurred. God, was this really happening? “I don’t—I don’t know what—”

He removed the ring from the box and grabbed her left hand again. She was stunned speechless as he slipped it on her trembling finger. “Say yes, Daenerys, and make me the happiest man in the world,” he urged, his face lifted to hers in earnest appeal. In his blue eyes she saw uncertainty, even doubt. He actually thought she was going to reject him.

Her lips parted, but still the words wouldn’t come. Her eyes darted between him and the ring on her finger. She could feel the weight of the stone, just as she could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, their expectations nearly suffocating. A faint ringing sound began in her ears.

“Robb,” she whispered, her lips numb and stiff. Finally, she nodded, managing to force the word out. “Yes.”

Relief flooded his face. “Yes?”

She nodded again. “Yes,” she gasped, and when he started laughing, she did, too, a hysterical bubble of laughter bursting in her throat.

With a fist pump, he jumped to his feet and crowed, “She said yes!” Everyone erupted in cheers and applause as he scooped her into his arms. She clung to his neck, laughing as tears leaked from her eyes. He spun her around before putting her down, grabbing her face to kiss her. Then he stepped back, and suddenly Ned was there to congratulate him, slapping him on the back.

“I’m so proud of you, son,” he declared. Catelyn was immediately at her side, pulling her away from Robb.

“Oh, I’m so happy! Welcome to the family, Daenerys!” she gushed, kissing her cheek and hugging her.

“Thank you,” Dany said, hugging Ned next as Catelyn grabbed her son in an embrace.

“I think this moment calls for champagne!” Ned said with a huge grin before calling to the butler. “Jory! Bring us that bottle we’ve been saving for a special occasion like this!”

As Jory left to retrieve the champagne, the rest of his family came up to congratulate them. Head spinning, Dany accepted them all with a wide smile fixed to her face.

Unbidden, her eyes sought out Jon, immediately finding him across the room. He looked as stunned as she felt, his pale face frozen in astonishment and—horror? Their gazes locked, and just like that, he shuttered his expression, slipping on his usual mask of scorn and contempt. Knocking back the whiskey in his hand, he set the glass down and stalked out of the parlour without a word of acknowledgement or congratulations to either of them.

* * *

Hours passed before Dany could finally escape to the bathroom. She desperately needed a moment to herself, to process everything that had happened over the course of the night. Fortunately, Robb had been so deep in conversation with a couple of his friends—and, by that point, deep in his cups—he didn’t notice her slip away.

She retreated to the ensuite bathroom of Robb’s room, shutting both the bedroom door and the bathroom door as if to put as many walls between her and everyone else. Blindly, she felt for the light switch and flipped it on, the soft light hitting her eyes and making her squint. She stumbled to the sink, catching her reflection in the mirror: her cheeks were splotchy and pink, flushed from the champagne and the excitement. Pushing her hair back from her face, she fanned herself with her hand and turned on the faucet. Heedless of ruining her makeup, she caught some water in her cupped hands and splashed it across her face. The next handful she drank down eagerly, soothing her parched throat.

Feeling less flushed, Dany turned off the sink and braced her hands on the porcelain sink basin. The ring on her finger caught her eye, the diamond glinting in the light; the sight of it there gave her a strange jolt. The stone was big, way too big on her tiny hand; it kept listing to the side under its own weight. Gingerly, she touched the ring, spinning the platinum band easily around her finger. The band was too loose; she would have to get it resized, or she would surely lose it. She didn’t even want to think about how much it cost.

Her chest growing tight, Dany pulled the ring off and set it aside on the sink. Just for a moment, she told herself; wearing it all the time would take some getting used to. Letting out a shaky breath, she grabbed the hand towel from the rack and pressed it against her face, patting dry the water that dripped from her nose and chin.

Behind her, she heard a soft click as the door opened. Her eyes snapped open just as the light over the sink cut out, pitching her into complete darkness. Her heart lurched into her throat, and she dropped the towel as she whirled around.

Over the pounding of her heart, she heard something. Or someone. Footsteps, slowly moving toward her. For a moment, she was too scared to breathe. “Robb?” she said tremulously, even though she knew it wasn’t him.

The hair stood on the back of her neck. Whoever it was, was in front of her now. She gripped the edge of the sink behind her. “Who—” Then she smelled it.

Cigarette smoke.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “ _Oh_ —”

A hand pressed against her mouth, silencing the rest of her words. “Don’t,” he rasped, and then his mouth was next to her ear. Pleading: “Don’t say it.” His scent was stronger now, the acrid smoke on his fingers—long, callused—burning her nose. But layered beneath it was the scent of pine and leather.

His breath was hot on her ear, and her own breathing grew louder, coming in quick, erratic pants. She should have bitten him, pushed him away, screamed. She could have; the pressure of his hand on her mouth was light. He wasn’t restraining her.

Instead, she held absolutely still, even as his beard tickled her ear, then her cheek. His lips followed, pausing over the pulse point in her neck. No doubt he could feel her heart jumping wildly just beneath the skin.

Then his tongue was there, swiping across her pulse point, wetting her skin. She sucked in another breath, the unexpected shock of the sensation sending a pang of desire through her, down between her thighs. Her cunt clenched, and she let out a soft moan, surprising herself.

He made a rough, answering sound in the back of his throat, then his hand was gone, immediately replaced by his mouth. She gasped again, startled by the softness of his lips parting hers. When she felt the wet slide of his tongue over her bottom lip, she released the sink behind her to clutch at his shoulders, pushing up on her toes to kiss him.

His mouth went slack when she stroked her tongue into his mouth—as if he were caught off guard by her aggression. Truthfully, she didn’t know where this boldness had come from. She was suddenly a feral, needy little thing, and in the dark, she could let herself feast without judgment.

Dany tugged at the curls at his neck, her teeth digging into his lip, biting, cutting. He choked on a breath, a gasp of pain, and then he was moving, his hands on her face, holding her still as he swept his tongue between her lips, taking charge and plundering her mouth. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and sweet, the sharpness of it on his tongue only heightened by the smoke that lingered on his breath.

With a groan, he dragged his hands down her sides and roughly grabbed her arse. Then he lifted her off the ground, placing her on the counter. Next, his hands were on her thighs, shoving her dress up as his fingers scrabbled underneath the bunched material. When he pulled at her panties, she grabbed the edge of the counter again and wriggled to help him. Her arse nearly slipped into the sink basin, but he grabbed her waist to anchor her, his other hand yanking her panties down her thighs. His mouth left hers so he could get her underwear down her legs and over her boots, but once they were gone, he was kissing her again, rough and demanding.

He jerked her toward the edge of the counter, pushing her thighs apart. When the air touched her bare cunt, she gasped into his mouth, suddenly aware of just how wet she was. He suckled at her bottom lip before pulling away again, his mouth nuzzling down her neck to her cleavage. She moaned when she felt his tongue between her breasts, hindered only by the neckline of her dress. He cupped her breasts through the bodice, kneading them roughly until her nipples were hard points pressing against her bra cups.

He gave a sharp yank on her neckline, twisting and pulling it and bra down over one breast. Then his mouth was there, lips and tongue wrapping around her nipple. She cried out as he sucked, her hips rocking with the hard pull of his mouth.

She clenched her eyes shut, arching into his mouth and writhing on the counter to relieve the throbbing in her clit. Already she could feel the pressure building rapidly—gods, she could come just like this, with just a few gyrations of her hips—

Abruptly, he pulled away, and she cried out in dismay. “Wait—” His hands pushed at her knees again, and then she felt the soft brush of his hair on the inside of her thighs, the roughness of his beard on her cunt. When he opened his mouth over her, she tensed, wholly unprepared for the glide of his tongue through her slick, sticky folds. “Oh!” she moaned, grabbing his head and pressing her cunt against his mouth to seek the pressure he provided. But he resisted any attention on her clit, his tongue sinking inside her instead. “Oh, _gods_.”

As he fucked her like that, slow and invasive, she leaned back against the mirror, opening her legs wider for him. The sounds of his mouth working at her cunt was sinfully obscene, expanding loudly in the small confines of the bathroom. She bit down on her lip, breathing hard through her nose. His name was right there on the tip of her tongue—but saying it out loud would make it real. As long as she didn’t say it, she could tell herself it was only an illusion, a sordid fantasy playing out under the covert cover of darkness.

Once she was nice and wet, her cum slipping down between her arse cheeks, he swiped his nose up through her folds, grazing her clit. She jerked, giving a startled cry when he unfurled his tongue over it, flicking hard and fast.

A scream threatened to tear loose from her chest, and she brought her hand up to her mouth, biting down hard on the fleshy part of her palm. In her head, she chanted his name over and over, like a desperate prayer.

Just before her climax could hit her, he retreated. Dany dropped her hand and let out a shriek of frustration. “ _No_ —”

Yanking her toward him, he kissed her then, her cum damp on his beard, slicking his lips and tongue. She moaned into the kiss as he moved between her legs; she felt him fumbling with his pants, tugging at the fly with one hand, pushing his underwear down and pulling out his cock. She reached for him, but he grabbed her left hand and pinned it behind her, their fingers twisted together. She curled her fingers around his, clinging tightly.

With a grunt, he tore his mouth away from hers, his other hand lining his tip with her cunt. “I want you to come on my cock,” he growled against her lips, then he was pushing into her, the angle dragging his shaft across her clit until he was buried inside her. She cried out as her cunt contracted around him, cinching tight. He pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing it hard, and then she was coming, the ripples of her orgasm pulsing through her in deep, gripping waves. She threw her head back, all caution forgotten in the face of her pleasure.

“ _Jon_!” she moaned, her cunt stretched wide by his cock. He groaned, grabbing her waist.

“Fuck, Dany,” he grunted, then he was moving inside her with hard, quick thrusts of his hips between her thighs. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, burying her face against his neck to muffle her cries. He held her in place as he fucked into her, mouthing at her neck and ear. She felt a stray flutter of pleasure shoot through her and gasped, shuddering and tightening around his cock once again. He groaned, moving inside her so fast, her cunt squelched with the wet suction of his cock. He jerked her closer, balancing her ass just on the edge of the sink to stroke his cock inside her more easily.

“ _Yes_ , please, give it to me,” she whimpered when she felt the first judder of his hips, her legs wrapping around his waist to hold him tight.

“Dany,” he groaned, then he was coming, shoving as deep inside her as he could reach. “Fuck, _fuck_.” She felt his cock pulse inside her, filling her cunt with his cum.

She kept her face buried against his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat against her tongue as she gasped for air. As long as she stayed hidden right there, nothing else mattered. Nothing could touch her, his arms keeping any other thoughts and worries at bay.

But then he was moving, his arms falling away from her. When he stepped back, his cock slipped out of her, and with it, his cum, dripping to the counter. She closed her legs and bit down on her lip as she listened to him put himself to rights, zipping up his pants. Next, he adjusted her, tugging up her bra and dress to cover her breast. Then his hand groped along the counter, finding the hand towel. He shuffled closer, reaching around her, and she sucked in a breath. The faucet creaked as he turned it on, the water rushing into the sink and wetting the towel. After a moment, the water cut off. He put the damp towel in her hand, and her fingers tightened around it reflexively.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. “You might want to put the ring on before you go back out there.”

And then he was gone, the door opening a moment later. She squinted against the sudden light, catching his silhouette in the doorway, before the door shut behind him, pitching her once more into darkness.

* * *

Following the engagement, wedding planning commenced immediately. Dany didn’t know the first thing about planning a wedding, so she was grateful when Catelyn and Sansa took it upon themselves to organize it all.

“I don’t really have much money saved,” Dany admitted to them, chagrined.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Catelyn assured her, squeezing her hand. She gave her a serene smile. “We’ll cover everything. All you have to do as the bride is show up.”

They planned for a small wedding to be held on the grounds of the Stark estate. Most of the guests would be family and friends of the Starks.That was fine with Dany, as she didn’t have any family of her own, and the few friends she’d managed to make in her short time in the North were already friends of the Starks.

They set a wedding date for the first day of winter, which was only a few weeks out. Dany was surprised by the suddenness. Everything seemed to be moving so fast. “Winter is coming,” Robb told her when she asked about it. “It’s a Stark family tradition to be married on the winter solstice. That’s when my parents were married.”

“But why not wait till next year then?” she suggested.

He looked affronted. “I want to be married before then. Don’t you want to start the rest of our lives together as soon as possible?”

When he said things like that, what could she do but agree? The guilt of her indiscretion weighed heavily on her. More than once, she found herself working up the nerve to confess to him what she’d done, but every time she tried, she chickened out.

That night, after she’d returned to the party downstairs, she’d expected Robb to already know everything—if not because Jon had told him, then because it’d been written all over her face. But her fiancé hadn’t even seemed to notice she’d been missing at all. He’d carried on the rest of the night like normal, his arm around her waist, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

Jon hadn’t told Robb, then. He was probably just as ashamed as she was. Maybe he regretted it. Of course, he did. She did, too. She didn’t understand why she’d done it. She couldn’t stand him, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. She’d just been...overwhelmed, by everything that had happened that night. Confused. Unsure. A little scared, even. Maybe subconsciously she’d wanted to sabotage things for herself. What did she know about having a stable, loving relationship, after all?

It’d been a mistake made in a moment of weakness.

Fortunately, she hadn’t seen Jon since the night of the engagement. When she was at the manor, he avoided coming around; he stayed holed up in the guesthouse most of the time, away from the other Starks. Truthfully, she was glad. Seeing him would have just made it harder. After a while, she could almost convince herself that the encounter in the bathroom had only been a fever dream.

Once it became apparent Jon wasn’t going to tell Robb, Dany decided to devote herself to her husband-to-be completely. They would be married soon, and once they were, she promised herself she would make up for her transgression by being the best wife possible. The Starks were going to be her family, and she was finally going to have the life she’d always dreamed of, ever since her parents had died.

These people had welcomed her into their home with open arms, and she owed them everything. She wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , fuck this up.

* * *

The day of the wedding dawned bright and frigid, the coldest day of the year yet.

It would be Dany’s first winter in the North. Robb and the rest of his family seemed unaffected by the cold, but having grown up in the south, she’d never experienced anything like this before. She was glad her wedding dress was long-sleeved, though the lacy material offered little in the way of warmth.

The morning passed in a blur of last-minute preparations. Once Dany’s hair and makeup were done, Catelyn and her daughters came to survey the finished product. “Oh, Daenerys. You’re going to be the most beautiful bride,” she enthused. “Robb is going to love it.”

Dany blushed. “Really? You don’t think it’s too...heavy?” she asked uncertainly, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. The eye makeup was dark, her lips blood red. It seemed a bit much for a daytime wedding.

“Of course not,” Catelyn objected.

“It’s what’s in style,” Sansa said dismissively. Her own red hair had been styled in loose curls around her shoulders. “It’s all over the bridal Instagrams. See?” She pulled out her phone and tapped on it before flipping the screen around to show Dany.

Arya rolled her eyes, flicking a bobby pin across the makeup vanity. “All this effort just for one day? Seems like a complete waste.”

Sansa huffed. “Just because you’re fine looking like a wild animal doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

“Girls, enough,” Catelyn snapped. Then she turned a smile on Dany. “Let’s get you into your dress now, shall we?”

As they helped her put on her wedding gown, Dany let them push and pull her around like a doll, tugging the sleeves up her arms, fastening the buttons in the back, cinching the waist with a silk sash. Once they were done, they stood back to admire their work.

“Oh, it’s just perfect,” Catelyn murmured. Dany smiled dutifully as Sansa took pictures on her phone. But when she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror, she froze: She was shrouded in all white from head to toe; even her silver hair looked nearly white in the afternoon light. The sight was strangely unnerving.

“What do you think?” Catelyn asked. Dany dry swallowed and smiled for her soon-to-be mother-in-law’s sake.

“I love it. I just—I think I need a moment to process everything,” she said with an uncomfortable laugh. Catelyn blinked, her face falling slightly, but then she was smiling again.

“Of course. The wedding day can be overwhelming for any bride. I remember how nervous I was for my wedding. Come on, girls, let’s give Daenerys a moment.” With that, she ushered Sansa and Arya out of the room.

The second the door shut behind them, Dany let out a breath, pressing her hand to her stomach as if she could soothe the nerves swirling there. The dress was too hot for indoors, and the lace sleeves were a little itchy. A flush was creeping up her neck to her face, and she fanned herself before cracking open one of the windows to let in a gust of chilly winter air. It felt nice on her overheated cheeks, and she dragged over the vanity stool to sit down on it next to the window. Below, she could see the setup for the ceremony that was to take place in the Starks’ ancient godswood. The guests were already arriving, filling in the rows of chairs. A wedding arbor had been constructed near the heart tree where she and Robb would say their vows.

A sharp knock on the door startled her, and she turned toward it. “Come in,” she called, expecting Catelyn or a servant.

Instead, Jon opened the door, dressed in a black suit and bowtie. For a moment, she felt like the air had been knocked out of her. Stunned, she started to stand but sat back down again. “You—what are you doing here?” she asked with no small amount of trepidation. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so afraid.

He stared at her, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I was sent to retrieve you,” he said. “It’s almost time.”

“Oh.” Perplexed, she stood slowly from the stool. When his eyes swept over her, she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, feeling self-conscious. “How do I look?” she heard herself asking and immediately regretted it.

He lifted his eyes to her face, and she found herself holding her breath, paralyzed by the intensity of his gaze. Something flashed through his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone. He averted his eyes, fixating on some spot on the wall behind her. “Like a bride,” he said flatly.

Disappointment settled in her stomach. She didn’t know what she’d expected. “Right,” she agreed faintly. “That’s what I was going for.”

She made to walk past him but suddenly stopped within feet of him. “Jon.” He looked at her again, and her heart climbed into her throat, her voice faltering. Memories of _that_ night flooded her mind—his voice in her ear, his beard chafing her inner thighs, his cock moving inside her. Now, she was the one finding it hard to maintain eye contact.

She swallowed again. “I just...I wanted to say…” Why was she doing this? Why was she determined to press on a bruise when it had all but healed? Still, it couldn’t be helped, the words all but clawing their way out of her. “I wanted to—to thank you. For not...for not telling Robb. About...what happened. That night of our engagement.”

For a moment, he only stared at her, expressionless. Then, he huffed out a breath, and a bitter smile pulled at his mouth. “I did tell him, Dany.”

For a second time in as many minutes, she couldn’t breathe. “You—what?”

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he spoke dispassionately. “I told Robb everything. The very next day, actually. I told him how easily you opened for me, how eagerly you let me take you on that sink. I even told him what you tasted like, in case he didn’t believe me.”

Her head began to spin, and her knees nearly buckled. She was going to faint. Her hand shot out, steadying herself on the vanity as she stumbled slightly. “But—how—he—”

Jon shrugged. “He didn’t care.”

Her wild eyes flew to his. “ _What_?”

He sighed. “Personally, if it were me, I would not be quite so magnanimous if my fiancée fucked my brother. But he is determined to go through with this wedding, no matter what.”

Robb knew she’d cheated on him... _and didn’t care_? At this realization, a wave of relief washed over her. In its wake, there was confusion and doubt, but she pushed against the tide, determined not to panic. Trying to rally, she lifted her chin. “Of course, he didn’t care. He loves me,” she insisted, her voice trembling. “He loves me, and—and he knows it was just—it was a mistake. It meant nothing.”

Jon stared at her pityingly. “Sure.” He shook his head, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he looked sad. “I tried, Dany. I did what I could.” He held her gaze. “You’re on your own now.”

With that, he turned and left.

* * *

Dany walked the aisle alone, her hands shaking as she tightly clutched the bouquet of winter roses. If Robb noticed when he took them in his own, he said nothing. When he smiled at her, all Dany could think was: _You know. You know what I did, and you don’t care._

She barely heard the maester’s words, somehow managing to numbly recite the vows when prompted. She and Robb exchanged their rings, and then he was kissing her, a hard, dry press of his lips to hers. The guests cheered, and Dany forced a wide grin for the cameras. The Starks applauded from the front row. Catelyn dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as Ned beamed; even Arya and Bran seemed excited.

Jon was not among them.

As Dany and Robb walked down the aisle, their hands clasped together, she finally spotted him—far removed from the wedding guests, his shoulders hunched forward as he walked alone among the winter rose bushes of the godswood.

Immediately after the ceremony, bride and groom were ushered into the sitting room to pose for wedding photos together. As the photographer got set up, Dany finally found the courage to confront her new husband.

“Robb.” She spoke lowly, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I know—I know you know—about Jon and me—” His smile fell, his face darkening into something unrecognizable. Her breath caught. Jon had been telling the truth, after all.

Robb didn’t look at her, his hooded eyes fixed on the photographer. Hurriedly, she tried again, “I’m so—”

“I don’t want to discuss it,” he said through his teeth. She stared at him, her eyes round, and he finally turned his gaze on her. His face softened then, just barely, as he brought his hand up to her face, brushing the back of his fingers against her cheek. “It’s done, Daenerys. What happened before doesn’t matter anymore.” He grinned suddenly, an absurd parody of happiness. “Now, smile for the camera. This is an auspicious day.”

Stunned, she faced the photographer and winced when the flash went off, momentarily blinding her. Black and white spots danced in front of her eyes until she blinked them away. When she could see again, she smiled just like Robb had asked, obediently performing for the camera.

She did the same during the reception as well: Smiled and laughed. Ate the food that tasted like cardboard in her mouth. Thanked the guests she didn’t even know for their well wishes. Kissed Robb every time someone tapped their champagne glass with a knife.

Tomorrow would be better, she told herself. Tomorrow they would officially start their life together as husband and wife. Robb was right: Nothing before mattered anymore. She just needed to get through the night, and the strangeness and unpleasantness of the day would only be a distant memory.

* * *

The last of the guests had finally left. Dany and Robb were lounging in the parlour room with the rest of his family—even Jon, though he remained separated from the others, standing by the window as he sipped a tumbler of whiskey, staring out into the night with morose contemplation.

As the others laughed about a story Ned was telling, Dany tugged discreetly at Robb’s hand. “I’m pretty tired,” she said quietly. Her eyes felt bleary, her jaw sore from all the smiling.

He looked surprised. “It’s only midnight,” he replied, loudly enough that the others heard.

As everyone’s attention swiveled her way, she smiled wanly. “It’s been a long day,” she said in apology.

“Oh, but you can’t go to bed yet!” Arya protested, her eyes comically wide. “We haven’t even played the game yet!”

Dany frowned. “What game?”

Ned chuckled. “Oh, forgive us, Daenerys. There’s just a game we play—” He turned sheepish. “Well, it’s a Stark family tradition, really. Every time we welcome a new member into our family, we play a game of hide and seek after the wedding ceremony.”

She let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Hide and seek? Seriously?”

When she realized they weren’t joking, her smile dropped. Ned grimaced, and Catelyn took his hand in hers, scooting closer to him. “I know it’s silly. But like I said, it’s tradition. Our family has done it for ages,” Ned said, looking to his wife then back to Dany. “It began as a pact made between our ancestors and the Others.”

She stared at him cluelessly. “I’m sorry—who?”

“A very long time ago, legend has it that a terrible winter threatened to ravage all of the North. It was known as the Long Night, and these creatures called the Others, or White Walkers, brought it down upon us,” Ned explained solemnly. His family listened raptly as he spoke. “The only way to stop the Long Night was to make a deal with them. So that’s what my forebears did. Every year, on the first day of winter, we would hold a wedding, followed by a ceremony where the bride or groom is then presented to the Others. As an ‘offering’ of sorts. These unions were enough to appease them and brought about the end of the Long Night. Without these regular unions, winter would return and would rage for months, years even, until the next one.”

He laughed suddenly. “Of course, this is just a story, and we obviously don’t control the weather. But every time we have a wedding, we play this game. Call us superstitious, but we consider it bad luck for a wedding to pass without performing this tradition.”

Dany cast a wordless look around the room. The only one not looking at her was Jon, his jaw tight as he kept his eyes fixed on the window.

Robb squeezed her hand, and she turned her gaze to him. “Come on, Daenerys. It’s only a game.” He lowered his voice, his eyes holding hers. “It would make me happy if you played it with us. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Shame flooded her face. “Of course, I do.” She took a deep breath and smiled for everyone else’s sake, giving an awkward laugh. “OK, I guess. How do we play, exactly?”

Ned beamed. “It’s rather simple, really. The bride or groom marrying into the family—in this case, you—hides somewhere in the house, and the rest of us will look for you. Once we find you, the game is over.”

Her brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

He shrugged. “That’s it. Whoever finds you is the winner, but it’s only for bragging rights. Well, if Robb is the one to find you, I suppose it’s a little more than bragging rights.”

Sansa gagged. “Gross, dad.”

Robb and the others laughed. “Which is why I’m determined to win,” he boasted, a twinkle in his eye. Dany flushed.

“Should I get changed?” she asked, starting to stand, but Robb stopped her.

“No, it must be in your wedding dress,” Catelyn told her. “That’s part of the tradition.”

“Did you play this game on your wedding night?” Dany asked her. Catelyn hesitated, glancing at Ned. After a beat, she smiled warmly, looking back at Dany.

“Of course, I did, darling.” She laughed. “Don’t worry. I know it feels strange, but once the game starts, you’ll get into it.”

Dany tried to find reassurance in her new mother-in-law’s words, but it was hard. She got to her feet, Robb following suit. “OK. So I just...hide anywhere?”

Ned nodded. “Yes, but it only works if you really try,” he warned her. “Don’t hide somewhere easy to find just to get it over with, or it defeats the purpose.” He smiled to soften the harshness of his reprimand.

Dany nodded. “Got it. Is, um, everyone playing?” she asked nervously.

Ned looked around. “Kids?” Sansa, Arya and Bran nodded eagerly. He looked across the room to his remaining son. “Jon? Are you in?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Finishing his whiskey in one gulp, he finally turned toward them. “Aye. You can always count on me, Father,” he said bitterly.

Ned clapped his hands together. “Great! Let’s begin, shall we? Daenerys, we’ll give you five minutes to find your hiding place before we start looking for you.”

They all stared at her expectantly. “Oh—OK, so I’ll just go now,” she said with a tight smile.

Before she could turn away, Robb pulled on her hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. He smiled at her. Hard. “Hide well, my love. I’m coming for you.”

A nervous giggle burst from her lips as he released her hand, and she strode toward the door. Opening it, she looked back at them one last time. They still watched her eagerly. It was a bit eerie, and a sense of unease settled over her. Despite herself, her eyes flitted to Jon once more before she closed the doors, catching the nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

* * *

As Dany hurried away from the parlour room, her skirts lifted in her hands, her heart began to pound. It was silly to get worked up over a mere children’s game, but for some reason she felt the urgency of it pressing down on her.

She ran up the stairs and down the hall, changing her mind and instead pivoting to run in the opposite direction. On her way, she passed servants, maids and butlers who seemed nonplussed by the sight of the bride running through the mansion in her wedding gown. Suddenly, Dany came to a stop and kicked off her heels, thinking to ditch them there. But the others would see them and easily follow the trail to her if she didn’t hide them somewhere first. She spun around frantically, looking for an alcove or potted plant to stash them in. When she spotted the dumbwaiter, she darted toward it, yanked the door open to throw them inside, then slammed the door shut before resuming her sprint down the hall.

Picking a room at random, she threw the door open and closed it behind her. The light was off, the only illumination being the moon filtering in through the gauzy curtains, so she had no idea whose room she was in. As she felt her way around the perimeter, she bumped into dressers and tables. She thought to hide in the closet but immediately thought better of it—it would be the first place anyone would look if they came in here. Instead, she darted toward the large bed in the middle of the room, dropping to her knees. The bed frame was just high enough off the ground that Dany managed to squeeze herself under the bed, wedging herself in the center. She reached down to tuck her skirts as close around her as possible, making sure none of the white tulle would be readily visible. Once she was situated, she settled in and waited for someone to find her.

Her heart was still racing, blood rushing in her ears. Weirdly, she felt kind of giddy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d played hide and seek. Growing up, she didn’t have any siblings to play with, and once she was in foster care with other children, her guardians usually didn’t allow for a lot of fun and games around the house.

Time crawled by. Her arms were beginning to cramp, pinned beneath her chest the way they were. She rested her forehead against the soft rug and closed her eyes, wondering if she might fall asleep before anyone found her.

Just then, the door opened, and her eyes snapped open as light flooded the room. Quietly, she turned her head to observe the intruder; it was a woman, judging by the legs and simple, black flats. Had Sansa or Arya been wearing flats at the wedding? Dany couldn’t recall now.

She tracked the feet as they walked across the room, rounding the bed. They stopped in front of the dresser to Dany’s right. Her eyes widened when she realized there was a full-length mirror by the head of the bed; from her angle on the floor, she could see herself clearly.

She held her breath as a drawer slid open. Pressing her cheek hard against the floor, Dany strained her neck to catch a glimpse of the person in the mirror. It was only one of the maids, putting away some clean clothes; relieved, Dany let out the breath. Jeyne, she thought the woman’s name was. With the light turned on, Dany could now tell she was in one of the Stark girls’ bedrooms—Sansa’s, if the frilly, girly decor were any indication.

A rolled-up pair of socks dropped to the floor, rolling toward the bed. Dany sucked in a breath as Jeyne squatted to pick it up. The maid froze, finally catching sight of Dany’s reflection; their gazes locked in the mirror. Carefully, Dany pressed her finger to her lips, eyes imploring. Confusingly, Jeyne’s own widened in terror.

Dany heard a scuffling sound in the doorway. With a gasp, Jeyne jumped to her feet, and before Dany could react, a sudden, loud _crack_ shattered the silence. Reflexively, she jerked, an aborted scream catching in her throat—and then Jeyne hit the floor next to the bed. Dany clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream.

A gaping hole had replaced Jeyne’s face, blood weeping from the wound.

“Oh—shit! _Shit, shit, shit_!” At the sudden exclamation, Dany jumped again. That was Sansa’s voice. “ _Fuck_! Oh, fucking hell!”

Footsteps thundered down the hall, getting louder as they neared the room. “Did you get her?” Bran.

“No bloody way did Sansa just win this thing.” That was Arya. Dany’s fingers dug into her jaw, her grip tightening around her mouth. Jeyne’s blood pooled on the hardwood floor, seeping into the rug. The scream clawed frantically at Dany’s throat.

“No, I shot the fucking maid!” Sansa wailed.

A squawk of outrage followed that admission—Catelyn. “Sansa Stark, what have you done?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Sansa shrieked. “I thought it was Daenerys!”

More footsteps. Heavier. “What happened? Did you find her?” Ned demanded.

“No, Sansa fucked up and shot the maid,” Arya replied nastily.

Sansa let out another hysterical wail. “I told you I didn’t want to use a gun! They’re so loud!”

“Then give me the gun,” Bran begged in earnest, but Catelyn interjected sharply.

“Bran, we’ve talked about this. You’re too young to be using firearms.”

“So stupid.” He sulked. “How am I going to kill her with a fucking hatchet?”

“ _Language_ ,” his mother admonished.

They neared the bed, stopping not far from where Dany lay; she sucked in a breath, her body rigid with terror. “Oh, right in the head.” A laugh. “Well done, Sansa.”

_Robb_. Dany felt vomit inching up her throat, tears burning her eyes. _What the hell is happening?_

“No, not well done,” Ned barked out, irritated. “The point is to kill _Daenerys_ , not our own bloody staff!”

Dany’s eyes bulged. _Kill Daenerys._

“Now, if she heard that gunshot, which she most certainly did, she’s going to know something is amiss,” he continued. “And if she finds the maid dead, everything will be ruined.”

“We have to do something about the body,” Catelyn urged quietly.

Ned sighed. “Right. Well, we can’t dispose of it right now, or we risk Daenerys seeing. So, let’s just put her in the closet for now. Once this is finished, we can give her to the wolves.”

“What? She’s going to get blood all over my clothes!” Sansa protested.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have shot her,” Arya retorted.

“I told you not to give me the fucking gun!”

“ _Girls, enough_. Robb, help me move the body.”

Ned and Robb stepped up to Jeyne’s corpse, bending over to grab each foot. Dany tensed as she watched them in the mirror, praying to every god she knew that they wouldn’t notice her.

Thankfully, they didn’t. The two of them worked together to drag the body across the room, streaking blood along the hardwood. Grunting and cursing, they shoved the body into the closet before slamming the door shut.

“Now what?” Bran asked, sounding bored.

“We keep looking,” Ned replied. “Close off this room so hopefully no one notices the blood. Robb and I will continue the sweep of the left wing. The rest of you check the right wing, then we’ll work our way downstairs. Go.”

The family shuffled out of the room, turning off the light and closing the door behind them. Once she was sure they were gone, Dany moved her hands from her mouth, her breath leaving her in a loud, heaving gasp. “Oh gods,” she choked out. “ _What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck._ ”

She pressed her face against the rug, her head spinning. This wasn’t a fucking _game_. They were _hunting_ her. They wanted to _kill_ her. Why? Who were these fucking psychos? How did this happen? How did she get mixed up in this? Robb—

A sob tore from her mouth. Robb. Her _husband_. He meant to kill her himself.

“Oh gods,” she sobbed again, gasping and panting. She was hyperventilating. _Why_? Why would he do this? Because of what she’d done? But no—he said it was in the past! And why would his family go along with it? Jon—

He was hunting her, too. But had he been with them just now? She hadn’t heard his voice. How many pairs of feet did she count? She couldn’t recall, her fear too consuming in the moment to think clearly, to catalogue everything happening all at once.

It didn’t matter. The why or who was irrelevant now. She just had to get the fuck out of this house. Her focus was on surviving.

Good thing she’d had practice doing it her whole life.

Gritting her teeth, Dany listened closely for any sounds—voices, footsteps. There was only silence and the pounding of her heart. Taking a deep breath, she slid out from underneath the bed—the opposite direction of where Jeyne’s blood still stained the floor—and scrambled to her feet. Dany crept toward the door and pressed her ear against it. Hearing nothing still, she braced herself and ever so slowly turned the knob to crack open the door. She peeked outside, and, seeing no one, stuck her head out to glance down the opposite direction. The coast was clear.

Quickly, she darted out into the hallway, deliberating which way to go. Robb and Ned were in the left wing somewhere nearby, but the others were in the right wing. She needed to get to the stairs if she had any hope of getting out of here alive.

Heart in her throat, Dany headed back the way she came, head swiveling in every direction to make sure no one was coming. She was almost to the stairs when a door opened ahead of her. With a gasp, she spun back around and began to run. She stopped when she spotted the dumbwaiter and lunged for it. Jerking the door open, she scrambled inside. It was small, but so was she, and she managed to pull her feet in behind her. Her voluminous skirts were preventing her from shutting the door, however. “ _Fuck_!” When she reached out to yank them inside, a hand shot into the dumbwaiter, latching onto her wrist.

She let out a startled scream, unable to grab onto anything as she was pulled out of the dumbwaiter, stumbling and collapsing to her knees. Her arm was jerked upward, lifting her to her feet.

She gasped as she caught sight of her captor. _Jon._ His face was wild, his eyes black. She let out a strangled whimper, and his hand tightened on her wrist. Then he was dragging her down the hallway behind him. She fought him, digging her feet into the rug, twisting and tugging on her arm, but his grip wouldn’t relent.

“Please, _please_ , don’t—” He threw open a door and propelled her inside, slamming the door shut behind him. “Jon, _please_ ,” she begged, weeping openly. He reached his other hand behind his back. When he pulled out a gun from his waistband, she choked out a fearful sob, flailing desperately to free herself. “ _No_ , don’t kill me, _please—_ ”

He shoved her up against a bookcase. The study—they were in the upstairs study, she realized distantly. He brought the gun between them. “Shut up,” he hissed in her face. “Or they’ll hear you.”

It took a moment for his words to break through the haze of her terror. Her next cry stuck in her throat, and she instantly fell quiet, going slack in his grip. She could only gape at him stupidly. “Wh-what?”

Impatient, he shoved the gun into her chest. “Take the gun. _Take it._ ” At his insistence, she had no choice but to wrap her hand around the grip. “You know how to use one of these?”

Weakly, she glanced down at the gun then lifted her stunned, watery gaze to his face. “You—you’re helping me?” she stammered.

“Aye.” Releasing her hand, he took a step back and repeated himself. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“I—” She couldn’t make sense of anything. She looked down at the gun again. “N-no—I’ve never—”

He grabbed her hand and the gun to demonstrate. “It’s not hard. Safety’s off, so all you gotta do is point and shoot. Remember to brace yourself for the kickback.”

She gawked at him. “Why?” she finally asked. “Why are you doing this?”

He huffed. “Call me sentimental, but I don’t exactly enjoy killing people.”

“Your family…” She shook her head, finally finding the pertinent questions. “ _What is happening_? Why are they doing this to me?”

Jon blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “It’s what they’ve always done. You heard the story.”

Her eyes blinked rapidly, tears clinging to her lashes. “The story—what Ned said downstairs? That was true?”

“More or less.” He let out a harsh laugh. “Except it’s not a game.”

“Then _what the fuck is it_?!” she whisper-yelled, feeling her hysteria mounting.

He looked at her plainly. “A sacrifice.”

Her mouth dropped. “A sacrifice? To—to _what_?”

“The Others.”

She was going to fucking lose it. “ _What fucking Others_?!”

Jon explained it to her like she was a child. “A long time ago the Starks made a pact with the Others. Not to save the world or whatever bullshit they like to feed people. The Others do require a sacrifice every time there’s a wedding, but it’s so the Starks can retain their power and status.”

She stared at him. This was fucking ludicrous—and she told him as much. “This is bullshit. You expect me to believe there’s some—some _magical creatures_ that require _human sacrifices_?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that somehow less believable than a family of psychos hunting you for sport?”

“You people are fucking insane!” she burst out.

He glared at her. “I tried to warn you, Dany. I told you to run.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?” But then it hit her. “Oh my god. This whole time—you were such a fucking prick to me—at the party, at all those family dinners, the night of the engagement—” The words caught in her throat, and her eyes widened. He winced. “You...you did that—you _fucked_ me, just to try to drive a wedge between me and Robb. You told him hoping he would call it off…”

Why she should feel disappointed, she had no idea. His jaw flexed, and he looked away. “No. I fucked you because I wanted to,” he said quietly. “Admittedly, it wasn’t my finest moment.”

She swallowed. “Why?” Her voice sounded small.

Incredulous, he looked at her. “Why do I want you?” He blew out a weary breath. “Hell, I don’t know, Dany. This would probably be a lot easier if I didn’t.”

“You could’ve just been nice to me,” she said despondently. “That first night. I—the moment I saw you—” Her voice quavered, and her grip tightened on the pistol in her hand. “Everything would be different right now.”

Jon shook his head sadly. “Me or Robb, it wouldn’t matter. We’d still end up right here.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “But _you_ wouldn’t kill me.”

They fell quiet. After a beat, Jon admitted, “You’re right about one thing. I told Robb about us hoping he’d leave you.”

An unexpected laugh bubbled in her throat, surprising him and her both. “Instead, it probably just made him want to kill me even more.”

He flinched. “I’m sorry.” The words coming from him were so foreign to her, she stopped laughing to stare at him. “I was trying to help.”

“ _Help_?” she asked in disbelief. “If you wanted to help, you could have just _told me._ ”

“Tell you that my brother only wants to marry you so he can kill you?”

“Yes!” she hissed.

He scowled. “Aye, well, in hindsight, maybe I should have. But you wouldn’t have believed me then.”

He was right; intuitively, she knew that. She would have just figured he was being an arsehole again. Her arms fell limply by her sides. “Why? Why me? What about me made him think I would be such easy prey?”

At Jon’s pitying look, she answered for him. “Because it’s like you said. I was so desperate to be a part of this family—any family. You were right. Gods, how fucking pathetic am I?”

He scoffed. “The Starks are really good at making themselves out to be the good guys. Everyone falls for it. You’re not pathetic, Dany. No more than my mum was.”

“Your mum.” She remembered then. “Oh my god. The rumors. They’re true. They actually—they killed her, didn’t they?”

Jon turned away from her. “I never knew her. I was just a babe when it happened. Honestly, I never would have known I wasn’t one of the Starks if it wasn’t for the way Catelyn treated me. When I first heard the rumors, I confronted my father. He denied nothing. He wasn’t ashamed. _Sacrifices must be made for the good of the pack,_ he told me.” Disgusted, Jon shook his head. “I was just a kid, though. What could I do? I guess I was as desperate to be a part of this family as you were.”

Strangely, her heart ached for him, at the raw pain in his voice. She started to reach for him before she caught herself, forcing her free hand down by her side. She didn’t know what to say to him. She was still angry, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him just yet.

“Why was everyone so obsessed with how I look?” she asked instead. “About where I’m from. Those were the first words you said to me, too. You wanted to know where I was from.”

Jon rubbed a hand over his face and turned back to her. At some point between her leaving the parlour room and now, he’d stripped out of his suit jacket and bowtie, the collar opened at his throat, sleeves rolled up on his forearms. “Because any sacrifice will do, but someone of Valyrian descent would be the ultimate sacrifice.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“You have the blood of Old Valyria running through your veins, the blood of ancient dragonlords and fire magic. According to the pact, it would be the ultimate union of ice and fire. It would bring unparalleled power to whoever made the sacrifice.”

She sank against the bookshelf. “So that’s what Robb saw in me,” she said hollowly. “He didn’t love me. He just saw me as a stepping stone to power.”

Jon scoffed. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just how he views everybody.”

Before she could reply, voices came from the hallway. Jon stiffened, then he was pushing her toward the desk. “Hide, under there. I’ll distract them, lead them away from here,” he said urgently, pulling the chair back so she could crawl under the desk. “Once we’re gone, get downstairs. Get out of the house and run as fast as you can.”

“What about the police? Can’t we call for help?” Dany asked frantically. “If I can get to my phone—”

“You think the police don’t already know?” he said harshly, glancing between her and the door. “There’s no one to help, Dany. We’re on our own.”

At that, her stomach sank, despair threatening to drown her. “Jon—”

But the door opening cut off anything she might have said to him, and he stepped away from the desk, leaving her line of sight.

“Jon?” It was Robb. Fearfully, Dany clutched the gun tightly against her chest. “What are you doing in here?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m looking for your lovely bride,” he said sarcastically, his voice moving farther away.

“Any luck?”

“She’s not in here.”

“Where’s your gun?”

Dany’s breath caught, but Jon lied easily enough. “You know I hate that bloody thing. I’ve got my knife on me, anyway.”

Robb scoffed. “Fucking pansy. You sound just like Sansa. Speaking of, did you know she shot the maid?”

“ _What_? Which one?” Jon couldn’t mask the alarm in his voice.

“You think I know their names? Anyway, just shot her face clear off. It was pretty gnarly—”

The door shutting silenced the rest of his words, and after a moment she couldn’t even hear their muffled voices anymore.

* * *

Dany stayed crouched under the desk long after they left. She was afraid to leave the safety of her hiding place, the fear of running into one of the Starks practically paralyzing, but she knew she couldn’t hide in there forever. Closing her eyes, she took a few steadying breaths, the barrel of the pistol cool against her flushed cheek. She made herself count to twenty as she worked up the courage, then, on twenty, she scurried out from under the desk for the door.

Slowly, her breath silenced, she opened the door; a cursory glance revealed the hallway to be empty. Pistol clutched in her hand, she stepped out, turned—and came to a dead stop.

Bran stood at the end of the hall, staring at her wide-eyed. For a second, she was utterly frozen. Then her survival instincts kicked in, and she darted back into the study, slamming the door shut behind her. “Fuck!” she cursed and ran back to the desk, spinning around in a circle. There was nowhere to go, no other door, no other way out—except for the window.

Decisively, she lunged for it, unlocking and shoving the window open. It swung outward. Dany tucked the pistol into the sash at her waist then stepped up onto the window sill. The study door slammed open behind her, making her jump, and she let out a scream as she nearly lost her footing. The ground loomed far below, a stone terrace underneath the study. It was a long drop; if she fell, she’d be dead.

“Hey! Hey, guys, I found her!”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Bran running toward the window, hatchet raised in his hand. Taking her chances, she stepped out onto the ledge, her fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the top of the window sill. There was a narrow stone ledge that connected the window to the next, and she carefully placed her foot on it.

Bran grabbed at her skirts then, and Dany let out a scream when he tugged on them, trying to pull her back in through the window. She couldn’t get a grip on the top of the window sill and had to reach an arm back in through the window to hold on.

Feeling steady, she kicked at him in a desperate attempt to shake him loose. He dodged her foot, ducking backward and haphazardly slashing out with his hatchet. Thankfully, the swing didn’t connect, and when she kicked again, she dislodged the weapon from his hand. It plunged to the terrace below.

Bran cursed. This time, when he reached for her, he grabbed her leg through the skirts. They struggled, Dany kicking and bucking against him wildly. She couldn’t reach for her gun or risk falling to her death when she released the window.

“Dammit!” Bran huffed, putting his knee on the sill for leverage. When he lifted his other to kneel on it, he let go of her leg and leaned out the window to grab at her waist. Seeing her opportunity, she reared back and kicked at his shoulders, hard. He slammed back against the side of the window then lost his balance, pitching forward with a shout, arms pinwheeling wildly. Dany watched in horror as he plummeted through the air. He hit the stone terrace with a loud, sickening thud, a crack resounding through the night air. Dany’s eyes snapped shut as a cry tore from her throat. Panting and terrified, she clung to the window.

A sound from inside the study jarred her out of her stupor, and she glanced inside. Catelyn had appeared in the doorway. “Bran?” she called, making her way to the window.

Panicked, Dany let go of the window sill and grabbed onto the jagged stone facade, quickly shuffling her way across the ledge to the next window before Catelyn could reach her. The woman leaned out the window to look at her. Then she looked down. A strangled sound caught in her throat.

“ _No_! Oh, gods, no! _Bran!_ Oh gods, my baby!” she screamed. “ _My baby!_ ”

There was a patio just beyond the study; Dany could reach it from the ledge. She kept moving, ignoring Catelyn as she wailed in anguish behind her, crying out for her son. Dany scrambled from window to window as fast as she could, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough; she had to place her feet precisely, careful not to get tangled in her long skirts.

Finally, the patio was within reach. Dany leaned toward it, grabbing onto the railing and leaping from the ledge to the patio. She gripped the edge of the patio with her toes, clinging to the railing. Summoning all her strength, she lifted herself over the railing and collapsed onto the patio. She let out a sob in relief, rolling onto her back as she caught her breath.

It took her a moment to realize just how eerily quiet it had become; Catelyn’s wails had ceased. Dany’s head snapped up. The study window was empty.

Realizing too late what that meant, Dany jumped to her feet and spun around toward the patio doors. Catelyn burst through them before Dany could draw the pistol from her sash. Rage and grief twisted the woman’s face as she raised her own gun. Dany froze, her hands held out at her sides. But the shot didn’t come, not yet. The gun shook in Catelyn’s hand.

“You killed my son,” she hissed.

Dany hiccupped on a sob. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to, I swear,” she pleaded. From her periphery, she saw a shape shift out of the shadows behind Catelyn, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off the gun pointed at her.

Catelyn’s nostrils flared. “I thought I would feel bad about this. I _did_ like you. Much better than the last bitch who left him.” She sneered. “But now, _now_ I will happily splatter your brains all over this patio—”

She gasped as a hand grabbed her hair, jerking her head back. Then another hand slashed a blade across her throat, sending an arc of blood through the air. The gun slipped from her hand, clattering to the stone patio as she grabbed at the weeping wound to staunch the blood. It was useless.

Blood gurgled in her throat, and she coughed, spraying blood into Dany’s face. Dany jumped back with a gasp as the woman stumbled forward, dropping to her knees and pitching forward. She writhed for a moment then ceased moving altogether, the pool of blood slowly growing around her.

When Dany looked up, Jon stood in the spot Catelyn had, his face ashen. He shook his head, still staring at his stepmother’s lifeless body, then he let out a harsh breath. His shoulders slumped. “Truthfully...I can’t say I feel too bad about that one.”

A movement behind him caught her eye—a flash of red. Dany sucked in a breath. “Jon!” She reached for her gun. Jon’s eyes tracked her movements, and understanding flashed across his face. Immediately, he dove out of the way as she lifted the gun and squeezed the trigger. The first shot went wild as her arm jerked from the recoil, but she squeezed again, and again, and again, until she finally found her target.

Sansa gasped as she staggered out onto the patio, tripping over her mother and collapsing on top of her. Dany followed her with the gun, breathing hard, ready to shoot again if necessary. But the younger woman didn’t move again.

Dany blinked, tears suddenly blurring her eyes. Her hand began to shake as tremors ran through her, and she gasped out a shuddering breath. “Oh gods.” Jon was at her side in an instant, carefully prying the gun out of her hand. “Oh gods,” she repeated, stunned, unable to tear her eyes away from the bodies at her feet. “I—I killed her.”

“She would have killed you,” Jon reminded her quietly. He checked the clip on the pistol. “Shit. Only two bullets left.” He bent down and picked up Catelyn’s gun, checking the chambers on hers. “This one’s full. Take it.” He held the gun out to her, and she looked down at it, horrified.

“No—”

Impatient, he tucked it into her sash for her. “Save your moral crisis for when you’re no longer in danger.” He tucked the other gun into the back of his pants under the waistband. Wiping his knife off on his pants, he stuck it through one of his belt loops. “Right now, we need to get off this patio. The others will be here any minute.”

With that, he pushed her across the patio. “How do we get down?” she asked. Her lips felt numb. She was in shock. But she knew there was no time to dwell on anything that had happened, not yet. She had to keep moving.

At the railing, he peered over the side. “Here. This trellis reaches the ground. Come on.” He helped her climb over the railing, holding onto her arms until she got her feet into the holes. Gripping the trellis, she scaled down as quickly as she could, nearly slipping a few times in her haste. Glancing over his shoulder periodically, Jon waited for her to get far enough down. Once she had cleared half the distance, he swung his legs over the railing, grabbing onto the trellis.

When she was only a couple feet above the ground, she jumped the rest of the way down, her feet sinking into the cold grass. She scuttled backward to make room for Jon. He moved faster than she did, his arms doing most of the work.

Overhead, a shout sounded, followed by a howl of rage. Jon nearly lost his grip. He glanced upward just as Robb’s head popped over the side of the patio. Dany gasped when he drew his gun. Jon released the trellis, dropping all the way to the ground. The first shot rang out, and Dany screamed, sure Jon had been struck. Instead, dirt and grass flew up by his feet.

“Run!” he yelled, diving toward her just as another shot struck the spot he’d been standing in. Spinning on her heel, Dany took off, Jon hot on her heels. She didn’t know what direction she was running; all that mattered was getting as far away from the house as possible.

Behind her, Jon shouted, “The woods! We can lose them there!”

She saw the dark tree line up ahead. Her arms pumped hard, lungs seizing with gasping breaths, but she didn’t slow, the fear and the adrenaline propelling her forward, numbing her to every rock and twig that cut at her bare soles. The trees grew larger, and she noticed the gleam of moonlight on a chain-link fence. She angled her body in that direction, Jon’s footsteps still thundering behind her.

Reaching it, she threw herself at the fence just as Jon yelled out behind her, “No! Not there!” She ignored him, quickly climbing the fence, desperate to get away. Her skirts caught on the links at the top, however, and she let out a shout as she tumbled over the other side, hitting the ground hard. The fall knocked the wind out of her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. She was in agony.

Jon hit the fence a second later, the clatter of metal echoing through the woods. “Shit! Dany! You have to get out of there! Now!” he yelled. Finally, mercifully, her lungs contracted and expanded on an excruciating breath, and she rolled from her back to her side, greedily sucking down as much air as she could. “Dany!”

Her vision dimmed and shifted. She was too dazed to respond. “Fuck!” Jon cursed, then he was climbing the fence, easily landing on his feet beside her. He took her arms in hand, pulling her up. “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

Abruptly, he went still. Blinking, she strained to focus her gaze on him. “Jon?” she croaked, breathless, her chest still tight. His face had grown taut.

“Don’t move,” he whispered to her. Confused, she glanced to her left. That was when she understood his fear.

The largest wolf she’d ever seen was stalking toward them, its fur as white as snow. Its red eyes glowed in the dark, and as it neared, she could see the black lips pulled back over large, yellow teeth. A low, threatening growl rumbled in its throat. She froze, gripped by terror. “Jon,” she whimpered. Instinctively, she reached for the gun in her sash but came up empty. Her heart jumped in her throat, and she glanced down. The gun was on the ground; it must have fallen when she had.

Jon gripped her hand tightly, stilling it at her waist. “No sudden movements,” he warned her. Slowly, he turned away from her, putting his body between her and the wolf. The wolf crept closer, its head low to the ground as if in preparation for an attack. Carefully, Jon held out his hand toward it. “Ghost. Come on, boy. You know me.”

Dany clung to his back, watching over his shoulder as the wolf inched toward them. The sheer size of the thing took her breath away; even on all fours, he was nearly as tall as them. This was no normal wolf. “What the fuck is that thing?”

“A direwolf,” Jon answered, keeping his gaze trained on Ghost. The beast lifted his head, bringing his face close. As he nudged his nose against the palm of Jon’s hand, he inhaled deeply. Remembering suddenly, Dany groped for the gun in Jon’s waistband.

“No,” he told her sharply, and she stopped, bewildered. “As long as we don’t hurt him, he won’t hurt us.” To the direwolf, he urged softly, “That’s right, Ghost. It’s me. We won’t hurt you.” Ghost nudged his hand again, more insistent this time. Jon stroked the beast’s snout. “There you go. That’s a good boy.”

Satisfied, the direwolf backed away, his ears no longer pinned flat to his head. He blinked languidly at them. Jon let out a relieved breath and lowered his hand. “OK. He’ll let us leave now,” Jon told her. “There’s a gate to the right. Walk toward it. Slowly, though. The others could be nearby.”

“There are more?” Dany whispered fearfully. Jon glanced back at her.

“Welcome to the wolf pen,” he said grimly.

Gritting her teeth, Dany made herself let go of him and moved to her right. Just a few feet away, she spotted the gate. Jon followed her, making sure to shield her with his body the entire way. When she reached the gate, she finally turned her back to the direwolf. There was a chain threaded around the latch. Luckily, it wasn’t locked, and she quickly unwrapped it so she could lift the latch. Pushing the gate open, she darted out of the pen and spun back around as Jon slipped through after her. Together, they moved to latch the gate shut again.

Before they could, a sudden gunshot rang out, and Jon let out a cry of pain, stumbling into the gate. Dany screamed, reaching for him. She got her arms around him before he could fall, trying to brace his weight with hers.

“Dammit, Jon!”

Dany’s head snapped around. Arya was marching toward them, her arm raised, gun leveled at them. Her face was pinched in distress. The gate creaked open behind them, still unlatched. Dany could no longer hold up Jon’s weight, and together they sank to the ground. Jon grunted, obviously in pain, but at least he was still conscious.

“Arya, please,” Dany begged when the younger girl stopped in front of them. She ignored Dany’s pleas, her glare fixed on Jon.

“How could you do this to us?” she demanded. “How could you betray us?”

Jon gritted his teeth, lifting his hand to the gunshot wound on his shoulder. He blanched and let out a hiss. Blood seeped into his white dress shirt. “Come on, Arya. You know this isn’t right,” he said gruffly.

Her blue-gray eyes flashed with pain. “ _She_ _killed them_ ,” she hissed. “Bran, Sansa, Mum.”

He shook his head. “No. That was me.”

“Don’t lie for her!” Arya yelled, the gun shaking in her hand.

“I’m not lying. I’m the one who killed your mother,” he said. His voice was tight with pain.

Arya stared at him, her face going slack with betrayal. “Why? Why would you do that? Why would you turn on your own family?” she choked out.

“She doesn’t deserve this.”

“ _She’s not one of us_!” Arya screamed, and Dany flinched, burying her face against Jon’s shoulder. Her whole body was quaking in fear.

“And neither am I,” Jon rasped out on a strained breath.

Arya’s face tightened in a grimace, her nostrils flaring. “ _Fine_. Then you can join her.”

When she leveled the gun at his head, Dany gasped, twisting to shield him with her body. “Arya, don’t—!”

Suddenly, the girl’s head jerked up, her eyes widening. A split second later, a large, white shadow lunged over Jon and Dany, tackling Arya to the ground. She managed a brief scream before it was immediately silenced. Dany heard the tearing and rendering of flesh, the telling gurgle as Ghost ripped out Arya’s throat.

Dany watched in wide-eyed horror. With a grunt, Jon pushed himself into a sitting position, and she turned to grab him.

“It’s just my arm,” he assured her. His face had turned considerably paler. “Let’s go now, while we still can.”

Jerking her head in a nod, Dany scrambled to her feet and helped him up with her. He leaned against her, his forehead shiny with sweat. “Ghost,” he demanded, his voice shaking. “ _Enough_.” Instantly, the wolf backed off, looking back at them, his white muzzle stained with blood. Jon grimaced, refusing to look at Arya’s body. “Back into the pen.”

Obediently, Ghost slinked away from his kill, moving past Jon and Dany. Once he was in the pen, they shut the gate and finished securing it. With a ragged breath, Jon slumped against the fence, his wounded arm slack at his side. In an instant, Dany was at his side, taking his other arm.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

He clenched his jaw and pushed off the fence. “We need to get you away from here first.”

“What can we do?” she asked helplessly.

He licked his lips. “My car. It’s parked in the front. Maybe we can reach it before anyone else finds us.”

Determined, Dany wrapped his arm around her shoulders to help him walk. They gave Arya’s body a wide berth, doing their best not to look directly at it. Blood still gushed from her neck, steaming in the winter air. The sight made Dany’s stomach churn, and she bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from gagging until they were well away from it.

They moved as quickly as they could, rounding the side of the manor. Every sound, every rustle of leaves, made her jump, and she looked around wildly, expecting someone to jump out at them at any moment. Finally, she spotted the garage, Jon’s truck parked in front of it. Hope expanded in her chest. “We’re almost there,” she whispered to him. He only let out a harsh breath, fogging the air.

Just as her foot touched the gravel driveway, she heard a gun click behind them. “Where do you think you’re going with my wife, Jon?”

They froze, her hope crashing at her feet. Swallowing thickly, she looked over her shoulder to see her husband, his gun trained on them. A whimper caught in her throat. “Robb—”

He barely spared her a glance, his lip curling in a sneer. “Let her go, Jon.” With a pained sigh, Jon withdrew his arm from Dany’s shoulders. But before he could turn around, Robb stopped him, stepping closer to shove the barrel against the back of his head. “Throw the gun aside first. No—not you. How stupid do you think I am? Daenerys can do it.”

Glancing fearfully at Robb once more, Dany gingerly pulled the gun out from Jon’s waistband. Robb turned his gun on her as she tossed it to the side. Regretfully, it skidded far out of reach. “Good. Now, turn around. Both of you.”

Slowly, Dany and Jon turned to face him. His mouth twisted in a cruel smirk. “Well, dear wife. So much for those vows, I suppose.”

Indignation sparked inside her. “Fuck you. They were dead the moment you tried to kill me.”

He only looked amused. “Daenerys, love, I haven’t tried to kill you. _Yet_. Only Jon. But, of course, _now_ I plan to kill you both.”

She was shaking. With rage, and disgust, and fear. How could she have ever thought she loved this man? How could he have fooled her so easily? “How could you do this?” she demanded. “Do I really mean so little to you?”

His face darkened. “No, Daenerys. You mean _nothing_ to me.” He fixed his gaze on Jon next. “Now, you...I must admit, this one hurts, brother.”

Jon huffed weakly. “Come off it, Robb. We haven’t been close in a long time.”

“And whose fault was that? You always let your petty jealousies get in the way of us having any meaningful relationship.” His expression shifted then, turning more earnest. “But it doesn’t have to be like this, Jon. We’re brothers, you and I. The same blood runs through both our veins.”

Jon winced. “Not quite.”

Robb shook his head. “It doesn’t matter that we don’t have the same mother. We’re _family_ , Jon. There’s still time to change this.”

“I can’t,” Jon said.

Robb’s mouth tightened. “So, you’d really let us all die? Just like that?”

Confused, Dany glanced between them. “What does that mean?”

Robb’s face changed again. “Oh, he didn’t tell you that part?” Jon’s jaw clenched, and Robb scoffed. “Of course not. You think we just kill people for sport? Because it’s fun?” He shrugged. “Sure, the riches and the power are nice. I won’t lie. But we have more than enough now. We kill people because it’s the deal we made. The Others need their pound of flesh, and they’ll take it—one way or the other. If we don’t give them you tonight, they’ll kill all of us instead.”

Wide-eyed, Dany looked to Jon. “Is that true?”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It doesn’t matter. We brought it on ourselves.”

“But—that means you, too, doesn’t it?” He didn’t answer, and her stomach curdled as the realization sank in. “Jon—”

“It’s no true _sacrifice_ to sacrifice someone else,” Jon ground out, glaring at Robb.

His brother barked out a laugh. “So you’d sacrifice yourself then. How noble of you.” He looked to Dany. “And you’d let him do that for you?”

Her lip trembled. “No—”

“It’s not up to her,” Jon interrupted.

“And me?” Robb pressed, moving even closer. “You’d really let me die? All for some Valyrian cunt?”

Jon didn’t say anything for a moment, holding Robb’s gaze in challenge. Then resignation dimmed his expression. “No,” he finally said as he brought his hand to his waist. “No, I won’t let you die, Robb.”

Robb’s eyes gleamed in triumph. With growing dread, Dany watched as Robb clapped a hand around Jon’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “That’s it. That’s my brother. What does Father always say?”

Jon closed his eyes. “The lone wolf dies,” he recited, and Robb finished for him.

“ _But the pack survives._ ”

Jon opened his eyes suddenly. “I think it’s time to let the pack die, brother.” With that, he shoved his knife into Robb’s chest, punching it all the way in to the hilt. Shocked, Robb gasped, releasing Jon’s neck and glancing down at the knife piercing his heart. Jon wrenched it free with a violent yank, and Robb staggered backward, the gun falling from his hand. Dany’s hands flew to her mouth.

“You—” Robb lifted his gaze to Jon, grabbing at the wound as blood soaked his shirt. It bloomed rapidly, spreading like a red flower. He coughed, blood spurting from his mouth, dripping into his beard, and he dropped to his knees. “You—fucking—bastard.”

Jon watched him mournfully, stepping back as his brother sank to the gravel. “Forgive me,” he murmured.

Dany could only stare down at the man she’d married mere hours ago. He wasn’t moving anymore, his blue, lifeless eyes unblinking and unseeing.

Finally, Jon turned to her, his face pained. “Dany. We have to go.”

She lifted her watery gaze to his. “But—but—he said—you—”

He grabbed her arm, shoving the bloody knife back in his belt loop. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said darkly, pulling her along behind him to his car. She stumbled along behind him, dazed and bereft. At his truck, Jon released her to fumble in his pockets for his keys. Dany stood there, her arms wrapped around her waist. It was funny; she could barely feel the cold anymore.

“Fuck— _fuck_ —I think the keys are in my jacket!” Jon cursed. “We’ll just have to go on foot—”

His words were cut off abruptly, his head slamming against the window. Startled, Dany screamed, spinning around in time to see Ned lift the stone in his hand and swing it at her head.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Dany woke again when her head banged against something hard. Her eyes fluttered open, her vision spinning and dipping. Her head throbbed. With a moan, she brought her hand to her temple. Pain lanced through her head, even sharper this time. When she pulled her hand back, she saw blood smeared on her fingers.

“Dany?”

Her head swiveled toward the voice, and she tried to blink her eyes open wider. “Jon?” His face finally came into focus, and his shoulders sagged in relief. She noticed the red contusion on his forehead from where he’d hit the car window. Alarm rushed in suddenly, pushing away all her confusion. “What—what happened?”

It wasn’t Jon who answered but Ned. “I apologize for the manhandling,” he said gruffly, squatting down beside her. She gasped when he wrenched her arms behind her back and began tying her hands together with rope. “I’m normally more civilized than this. But, well, you’ve left me little choice, haven’t you?” Anger sharpened his tone.

Dany looked back to Jon, realizing his arms and legs had already been bound. She took in their surroundings for the first time. They were in the godswood; her head hitting the heart tree was what had woken her. It was no longer night, the first light of dawn already brightening the sky.

“Mr. Stark,” she began, pleading, but he gave a rough tug on her arms, nearly dislocating them from their sockets. She let out a cry.

“Shut up,” he hissed in her ear. “You’ve taken everything from me already. We welcomed you into our family, and this is how you repay us?”

She let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “You can’t be serious. You’ve all been trying to _kill me_!”

Finished with her restraints, Ned gave her a hard shove backward, her head knocking once more against the tree. Her vision swam, and she let out a groan, shaking her head to try to clear the black spots dimming her vision.

Ned continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “You killed my wife. My children. My son—my _firstborn son._ And now you’ve turned my other son against me.”

Jon let out a dry laugh. “No, you did that yourself, Father.”

Ned stood over them, glaring down at Jon. “I gave you a home, a family. You had everything you could ever want. Everything and more.”

“Everything but a mother,” Jon said, not shying from his glower. Ned’s mouth tightened, and with a huff, he glanced at his watch.

“I don’t have time for—”

“Just tell me why,” Jon demanded. “ _Why_ my mother. Before you kill me, at least tell me that much.”

Ned stared at him before relenting with a curt sigh. “Truthfully, your mother wasn’t my first choice for the sacrifice. Cat was. I met her and your mother around the same time. But I fell in love with Cat.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t sacrifice her. I refused. I left your mother and married Cat. When the Others came to collect, I was able to negotiate another deal with them. I would bring them another sacrifice within the year, or they would return for us all. So, when your mother showed up out of the blue, claiming her baby was mine—well, it was the perfect solution.”

Jon’s throat constricted with a hard swallow. “So you took her son, and then you took her life.” He shook his head. “You’re a bigger monster than the Others, you know that, don’t you?”

Ned’s face went red. Suddenly, he backhanded Jon then dropped down into a crouch. “Listen here, you little shit. You’re lucky you had the life you did. I could have given you to the Others a long time ago. Cat asked me to, but I refused. I see now I should have. You weren’t worth the trouble.” He pulled a knife out—the one he had taken from Jon—and Dany sucked in a breath. Jon did not flinch away. “I’ll rectify that mistake now by spilling your blood in offering, along with this cunt’s.”

A chill settled over them, making Dany shiver more than she already was. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably, and her breath crystallized the second it hit the air. Suddenly, a dense fog filled the godswood. Over Ned’s shoulder, she saw tall, thin silhouettes moving toward them. With a gasp, she shrank back against the tree.

Finally noticing the fog, Ned widened his eyes. “No.” He stood and spun around, choking on a sound as the silhouettes neared him. He held his arms out. “No, it’s—there’s still time! I can still make the sacrifice!”

The fog separated, revealing the creatures. They were tall and gaunt, their skin milky pale. Their eyes, though, they burned a bright, unnatural blue. The Others, Dany realized with sudden clarity. She watched in both terror and awe as they stopped in front of Ned, towering over him. He brought his hands together in supplication. “I have the sacrifices right here. Two, in fact! I did what you asked—”

One of the creatures opened its mouth, and a terrible, inhuman sound spilled forth, like the sound of ice cracking and splintering. Dany cowered against Jon’s shoulder, wriggling against her restraints. Jon didn’t move, mesmerized by the scene.

Ned let out a defeated, keening sound. “No, no, it’s not fair—please—”

The Other held out its hand, and a huge ice splinter formed, shooting out from its palm. Then, just as quickly, it drove the spike through Ned’s chest. His scream rent the air. Dany stopped struggling as she watched him turn to ice before her, cracking, splintering, and finally shattering on the wind as the Other withdrew the spike. Jon and Dany jumped as ice shards flew through the air, slicing their faces and arms in a thousand, tiny cuts, before the pieces disintegrated into snowflakes and disappeared completely. The knife Ned had been holding clattered to the ground between them.

Jon let out a strangled sound of shock, staring at the empty space where Ned had stood only a moment ago. The Other stepped toward them next, and Dany let out a panicked shriek, fighting against her restraints even harder. Stirred from his daze, Jon began to do the same, grunting in pain as the effort strained at his gunshot wound.

When the Other crouched before them, they went utterly still. Its burning blue eyes seemed to hypnotize her as it peered directly at her before turning its gaze on Jon. Their quick, panting breaths were thick puffs of clouds before them; the tears that leaked from her eyes froze immediately to her eyelashes and cheeks.

Finally, the Other spoke again, that same terrible sound filling the air. She flinched, her shoulders pulling up around her ears. When the creature fell silent, Dany closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable attack.

It didn’t come. Opening her eyes again, she saw the Other stand, turn, and walk away. One by one, the rest followed suit. Soon, the Others faded into the ether entirely; with them went the dense fog and oppressive chill.

For a moment, neither Jon nor Dany spoke, too afraid to disturb the strange calm that had settled over the godswood. Her breath hitched suddenly, her teeth beginning to chatter once more—not so much from the cold anymore but from adrenaline. The sound seemed to bring Jon back to himself. He struggled into a sitting position, turning his back to her.

“Get the knife and cut my ropes,” he instructed urgently. Dany twisted away from him so her hands could grope for the knife on the ground. With the hilt gripped in her hand, she carefully positioned it between his hands and began to saw at the binds. He pulled, snapping the splintering rope, and quickly took the knife from her to free her hands. Then he cut his ankles free.

Tossing the knife aside, he gathered her in a fierce hug. She let out a relieved sob against his shoulder. He was shaking, too. After a moment, Jon pulled back and touched her temple gingerly. “You OK?”

She nodded. “Just—just a splitting headache. Better than the alternative, I guess.” She looked toward the spot where the Others had disappeared. “I don’t—I don’t understand. Why didn’t they kill us?”

“You didn’t make the pact, so you didn’t break it,” Jon explained solemnly.

Brow furrowing, she looked back at him. “But—why not you?”

Mystified, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe...maybe because I was never really a Stark.”

She stared at him, unblinking, and after a beat, a giggle burst from her lips. He looked at her in bewilderment as she let out another laugh, this one louder. Soon, she was laughing hysterically, tears of gratitude filling her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, confused.

“Sorry, it’s just—” she said on a gasp, nearly choking on her relief. She felt delirious with it. Touching his face, she assured herself he was alive and well. “I’m just so glad you’re not a fucking Stark.”

At that, his face softened, and he let out a gruff chuckle, touching his forehead to hers. “Never thought I’d say this but—fucking hell, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 👻💀


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